Rapid Falls(66)

Anna calls goodbye, and I turn back to see my dad standing at the liquor cabinet, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, as if beer isn’t enough to keep the dogs sleeping today.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

June 1997

Jesse was heavy, heavier than anything I had ever tried to lift. I could drag him only a couple of inches before I felt something in my lower back pull tight. The muddy water from his head and shoulders was all over me. I had turned off the headlights right after I reversed the truck off his body, but the moon was bright. I could see his torso had made an impression in the soft mud during the minutes he had been pinned down like an animal forced to lap water. I was not strong enough. I couldn’t move him alone. My plan was failing. Panic painted black spots in front of my eyes. I breathed deeply, willing myself to be calm. I let Jesse’s body fall back to the ground.

I looked around quickly. Everyone was still at the fire. He needs to sleep it off, I practiced saying. Tire marks marred the white leather on the back of Jesse’s jacket. I cursed and peeled it off his body, pulling his flopping wrists out of the cuffs. I shoved the jacket in my backpack, on top of my crumpled prom dress. I carried the pack with me as I stepped deliberately over Jesse and trampled the soft mud where he had lain. I didn’t want to leave any evidence.

I plunged my hand into the puddle, feeling for the chain of the locket. When I pulled it out, it was smeared with mud that still felt warm from the weight of Jesse’s body. I dropped the locket into the backpack on top of the clothes. I would deal with it later. First I needed to find Wade. Then Anna. I grabbed the bottle of painkillers from the outside pocket of the pack, then crammed the bag back behind the seat. I crushed the pills against the dashboard with the bottom of the vial. My hands were shaking so much that I spilled more powder on the floor of the cab than I got into the small mouth of the wine cooler. I hoped there would be enough. I dropped the empty vial behind the seat as well.

Jesse always kept a gallon of water in the truck, for emergencies. I grabbed it and washed the powder and the mud off my hands as best as I could, swiping water over my face. I used my dress to dry off. My stomach dropped when I looked down to see a deep black stain on my shirt where Jesse’s head had rested when I tried to lift him. I climbed back into the cab so I could check on my cleaning efforts in the dim light of the interior. I pulled down the vanity mirror on the passenger side. My face was flushed and my eyes were wild. I realized I was breathing heavily. Calm down, I told myself, as I clicked the dome light to the off position. That way, it wouldn’t turn on automatically when the door opened. I put the cooler on a stump close to the front of the truck. Then I walked back to the fire, trying to focus on inhaling and exhaling.

I passed another fight, and I stopped to scan for Wade. I wondered if the violence was the result of a casual insult or a real grudge, but then I realized it didn’t matter. You set something in motion when you wronged someone. You could count on what was going to happen if you made someone angry enough to hurt you.

Wade was standing at the edge of the crowd, sipping at a beer, looking wobbly and disoriented. The front of his shirt was stained with blood. I could barely believe my luck.

“Hey, Wade.”

“Cara! You and Jesse disappeared . . . Where were you? I kicked Todd Carter’s ass.” Wade could barely focus on me as he took another swig of his beer. Half of it landed on his chin and dribbled down to his collar. Even in the half light of the moon, I could see that it was not the first time Wade had miscalculated the location of his mouth.

“Well . . .” I let the word dangle in the air and looked at Wade with suggestively raised eyebrows. “We just needed a little alone time.”

Wade snorted. “Oh, I get it. I get it. Good for you.”

“Yeah. Jesse’s pretty drunk, though, Wade. He totally passed out in the mud afterward. I can’t get him up. Can you give me a hand?”

“He passed out? What a lightweight.” Wade spat unintentionally as he laughed. He wiped his mouth sloppily with his sleeve.

“I know. He’s wasted.” I laughed too.

Wade threw his beer can. “Loser,” he slurred affectionately. “Okay, let’s go.” He stumbled across the uneven ground like a punch-drunk boxer, weaving from side to side. He nearly ran into a parked car. When we got to the spot where Jesse was lying, face tilted to the side, Wade prodded him with his shoe, and I tried not to scream as my nerves rattled.

“Wake up, loser,” Wade half yelled. Jesse’s body looked somewhat normal, I was relieved to see. I moved to stand near his head.

“Can you grab his legs?” I said as I reached for his shoulders.

“The head’s the heaviest part, Cara,” Wade said, shoving me aside as he grabbed Jesse under his arms and turned him over, hoisting him under the armpits. His face was staring right at me. His eyes were open. The moonlight made them glint, and I shuddered.

“Grab his feet!” Wade yelled, out of breath. I rushed over and grabbed them clumsily, lifting him toward the open passenger door. “Drop his legs and open the door.”

I followed Wade’s directions.

“Hop in,” he said, and I obediently jumped into the cab as he pushed Jesse’s body up onto the passenger’s seat.

“Doesn’t this thing have an interior light?” Wade asked. “It would be a lot easier if I could see.”